


The NutcrAkko

by KriegsaffeNo9



Category: Little Witch Academia, She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018), The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Nutcracker Fusion, Child Abuse, Crack, Drug Use, F/F, Parody, References to The Nutcracker, Slime, Swearing, The Deadly KN09 Trifecta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KriegsaffeNo9/pseuds/KriegsaffeNo9
Summary: While a random ballerina (named Luz, who'da thunk) isrecuperating from a gruesome injury, cheerful ballet coach(?) Edalyn Clawthorne reads her (and some other kids) the story of the Nutcracker, which was definitely always about Diana Cavendish and the magical evening she has once she receives a cute little nutcracker.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Adora/Catra/Glimmer (She-Ra), Amity Blight/Luz Noceda, Diana Cavendish/Atsuko "Akko" Kagari
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The NutcrAkko

It was a blustery winter day in Hell's Half-Acre Ballet Studio and Pancake Buffet, and practice for the Junior Nutcracker Play was coming to a close. One ballerina in particular was still prancing around the stage like an idiot, as was her idiom.

"' _Ey, mi hermana!_ " Luz said, waving both her arms. "Lookitme, I'm standing en pointe! And they told me I couldn't!"

"No," Amity Blight, the star ballerina who was definitely playing the Nutcracker, "I said that you'd hurt yourself trying to stand en pointe before you developed the muscles needed to--"

"Can't hear you, too busy being cool!" Luz said, trying to will herself into not sweat so much.

"I see you, kid," Director Edalyn Clawthorne said, waving half-heartedly as she tried to hide her bubbler in her jacket pocket. "It's very impressive. Do your feet hurt?"

" _Oh, como un hijo de puta,_ " Luz said, and collapsed in a gangly pile.

Amity sighed. "I'll get the first aid ki--" _Thwip!_ "--son of a bitch!" She stumbled back from the crossbow bolt that sizzled past her and embedded itself in the stage. The other kids (they don't matter) screamed.

"Do you know how much of the first aid kit money comes out of my paycheck, girl with the green hair?!" Eda said, nocking a new bolt. "We're gonna let nature run its course and heal her up good as new. Plus, she's, what, six? They bounce back like a rubber ball."

"I'm fifteen..." Luz whimpered.

"If you're not thirty, you're six." Eda clapped twice, and a storybook fell from the heavens and landed in her outstretched hand. "Anyway! Since we gotta wait for this one to heal back up, let's pass the time with... a story!"

The kids gathered in a rough circle around Eda as she pulled up a seat. Most of the kids sat on the filthy floor, but not Willow Park; she was playing The Tree, and her costume precluded her from sitting. She gave it a game try, though, and in doing so flopped over on three other kids. This was to be expected.

"What's this story called, Ms. Clawthorne?" Luz said, after Amity pushed her into place like that lazy dog in that one .gif.

"It's called," Eda said, "The Nutcracker. You know, the thing we're about to dance. It's the true story, 100% unaltered from the original text!"

"Oh, man!" Boscha said. "The one where there's Nazi rats and that--"

"No," Eda said, aiming her crossbow right at Boscha's third eye.

Her metaphorical third eye, probably. Wait, is this actually in the Boiling Isles? But if it is, why would they let Eda direct a Christmas play, and why wouldn't it be a--

Eda swung her crossbow against her shoulder, aiming it upwards directly through the fifth wall (also known as "the ceiling") and at the author's own metaphorical third eye. "Now," she said. "Listen closely, 'cause I don't repeat myself. Ahem. Once upon a goddamn time..."

* * *

...there was a beautiful young woman named Diana Cavendish.

She lived in Germany, or maybe Russia, but actually the United Kingdom. She had blonde hair, but also kind of green; she was skilled, patient, maybe a little uptight, somewhat snobbish, and gay as the day is long, and the days get so long that far above the equator. Her least favorite thing was how the inexorable forward march of time took away everything she cared about and left her in the care of her loathsome aunt and her bitchy twin cousins, functionally alone and with no comfort or warmth. Her favorite thing was nothing.

Oh, how she craved the silent oblivion of night.

Her company were the mice in the walls and the toys on her shelf. Her world was the four corners of her bedroom and the endless hollow otherworld of her dreams. She would read books well into the night, projecting herself into their worlds so thoroughly that her bitter life would vanish. When at last she fell asleep, she would dream tales so deep and pitiless, so profound and meaningless, that when she awoke the world outside would disappoint her anew. As if every day were the first day without her mother.

She was an excellent student. Her prospects were good. She did not go hungry. And though she had the components of a good life, they lay unconnected and without life, like a broken toy train set.

("So, like the music video for 'Jaded?'" Luz said.

("You know what a music video is?" Eda said. "Nevermind. Continuing...")

...like a broken toy train set.

There were three sole exceptions to Diana's life in her amber cage. There was Halloween, when all good witches would dance in the woods and sing their red hymns to Gorgo-Mormo; on Halloween, she was in the arms of Our Lady of Sighs. There was Eel Day. And there was Christmas.

It was Christmas Eve, and here, in Diana's four-cornered world, she was readying for the annual Christmas party. That time of year when, at last, there would be guests in this dismal estate, people with brighter, freer lives, ever willing to tell stories and get drunk and throw things at Aunt Darryl. She would put up with it for the time being, and take out her frustrations on Diana later; but that was later and here was now.

She took a brief time to address her toys--her fellow adventurers on this ride called Life--and she crept out of her room, down darkened hallways, to the foyer, where more interesting people were already gathering.

First and foremost there was Glimmer, helping herself to cookies and punch. (The cookies-and-punch table was, in fact, just for Glimmer, to slow her down on the way to the rest of the hors d'oeuvres.) She was bright and pink and sparkly, and moved with such boundless energy she seemed to appear and disappear at will. She also had a tiny set of wings pressed flat against her back, because she was the Antichrist, daughter of the Light-Bringer herself; and like Diana, her mother was also no longer with the world of the living. So they had that going for them.

"Hello, Glimmer," Diana said, cursteying.

"Hi, Di," Glimmer said, after washing down an oatmeal raisin cookie with sparkly pink punch. On closer inspection, there appeared to be glitter and small plastic toys suspended in it. To Glimmer such things were hardly an obstacle. "How's tricks?"

"I've been learning how to ride a penny-farthing," Diana said. "I hear that one can 'pop a wheelie' on two-wheeled devices, but no such luck yet."

"Yeah, I think we're a few inventions away from that being, like, recommended and stuff," Glimmer said. "Want in on some of this punch?"

"I'll be fine," Diana said, gently waving her gloved hand. "Have you seen--"

"Adora!" Glimmer said brightly.

Adora was Glimmer's girlfriend. She was tall, blonde, carried a sword, and an absolute fucking moron. Glimmer hopped into Adora's arms; Adora caught her without so much as bowing and planted a kiss on Glimmer's pink-painted lips.

Diana was extremely jealous.

Adora's lovely cat Catra padded up behind Adora. Diana decided to roll the dice and give the little kitten a scratch behind the ear.

Catra flashed her talons. "Pet me like an animal and your arm ends at the wrist," the magickat said. She grabbed Adora by the waist, spun her around, and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Catra was also Adora's girlfriend, and Diana was also extremely jealous of her.

("Yes, Luz?" Eda said, rolling her eyes.

"Am I picking up that Catra was, like, a pet?" Luz said. "Like, a pet person? A slave, is what I'm getting at?"

"No, slavery was illegal in Britain by 1807," Amity said. "It's some kind of BDSM thing, I think. The Victorians were exceptionally kinky."

"Neat!" Luz said.)

"I see that Master Bow isn't here," Diana said. "Is he well?"

"Oh, totally,"Adora said. "He's vacationing in the US! His dads went to San Francisco to be gay in, and him and all his brothers are just sort of doing their thing."

"Also being gay," Glimmer said. "Just, you know, not with each other."

"Tragically," Catra said, fainting into Adora's arms. "Pet me, bitch."

Adora combed Catra's hair with long, caring strokes of her hand. Catra purred contentedly. Diana became too jealous for words.

"Hey, guys!" Glimmer said, pointing at the party in progress. "That eccentric toymaker chick just showed up and she's re-e-e-eal drunk!"

"Oh, man!" Adora said. "Beat you there--" Glimmer was off like a shot, halfway across the hall already. "--dang it." Catra was now also halfway across the hall. "Double dang it!" She held her awkwardly long sword in place--

("Phrasing!" someone shouted from the rafters.

"Shhhh!" another someone said.

"It's my Tourette's tic, I can't help it," the first person said. This devolved into a hushed apology from the second person, then a secondary apology from the first, et cetera.

"Just ignore that," Eda said, and continued, accidentally skipping two paragraphs.)

...ten thousand gallons of blood.

Uncle Croix stood astride this contraption, peeling her goggles off her eyes and propping them on her head. "Now," she said, clasping her gloved hands, "Who here wants to actually start this bastard up?"

"Please," Aunt Darryl said, "You can just go now, you've already--"

"Please, Aunt Darryl," Diana said, and Darryl pulled a Derringer pistol from her purse and jabbed the barrel between Diana's eyes.

"I didn't ask you to speak," she said icily, thumbing back the hammer.

Croix pulled a Schonberger-Lauman from a hip holster and took deadly aim at Darryl's own head. "I asked for a volunteer, and the girl stepped up," Croix said. "Now won't you be a dear and let the girl play?"

"Over my childrens' dead bodies," Daryl said, pulling a sawn-off shotgun from her purse and aiming it at Merill and Maryl.

"Mo-o-o-om!" they said in unison, hugging each other in terror.

"I'll fucking do it," Daryl said. "It's my party, we'll all die if I want to!"

Adora pulled her sword and lined it up with Daryl's Derringer hand. "How fast are you, bitch?" she said.

"You can't swing it fast enough," Daryl said.

"Swing it? The Sword of Protection is seated right on your brachial artery," Adora said. "All I have to do is play you like a violin and you'll bleed out all over this pretty, pretty floor. Are you in the mood to lose this gunfight to a sword?"

Daryl snarled and pulled the trigger. Her thumb was on the hammer, not that Diana didn't freeze in place, waiting for time to advance and steal her life away. Daryl gently lowered the hammer, and only then pulled the gun away from Diana's head. "So be it," she said, slotting her guns back in place.

"Thank you," Diana said, bowing to Adora, trembling.

"De nada," Adora said, sheathing the Sword of Protection. Glimmer and Catra swooned. Diana would be jealous, but she was technically envious, not jealous, and also she was too busy being glad to be alive.

Croix sheathed her gun and held out a winding key in its place. "Now, kid, let's see you wind this bitch up."

Diana took the key and approached the monstrous façade of Croix's majestic toy. Taking a deep breath, she inserted her key into the well-oiled hole, gliding with intoxicating smoothness into the receptacle; seated up to the hilt, Diana turned the key around, winding it until the tension was too much to bear, and with a soft gasp, let it release; and then a miracle happened.

(A "Phrasing!" sounded, so loud it defeated layers of obvious muffling.)

The great toy castle sprung to life, and all the little figures began to move. In a bedroom, a blonde girl with enormous glasses danced with a long-haired blonde doll. In the library, a blue-haired woman of a certain motherly cast took a book off a shelf, read it a while, returned it to the shelf, and took another one out.

On a balcony, a beautiful young black woman in a beaded crimson dress danced in a wide, looping pattern, showing off every detail of her dress and the subtle and intricate animations of her tiny armatures. Overhead, in a grungy potion shop, purple-haired witch loomed over a cauldron, mixing up a little pot of green slime. She took it out to the window and dumped it out; Diana watched in fascination as the sticky green substance dribbled down and onto the dancing girl. The stuff quickly got into the rails and stuck the dancer in place; the witch took the cauldron back, mixed up more goop, and went back to dump it out onto the still-trapped dancer. A burning smell began to rise.

"Wait, shit," Croix said, elbowing Diana out of place and attacking the machine with an array of tools. "That's not actually supposed to happen..."

"What's not supposed to happen...?" Diana said.

"Nothing," Croix said, pulling out her gun and emptying it into the guts of the machine. "Anyway! Let's pretend that nothing happened but you were still very impressed."

The tiny cauldron-witch flipped her off. Croix flipped her off back. The witch added her other hand, and Croix mimicked her. "You wanna go, huh?!" Croix said. She realized Diana was staring and cleared her throat. "Anyway, wanna see these fuckin' nutcrackers that I made that are super neat?"

"Okay," Diana said.

There were two very cool nutcrackers. One was a tall, buxom woman with flaming red hair; just by flipping the switch in her back, she would crack open a nut between her steely thighs. And the other was a short, brown-haired Asian girl, roughly around Diana's age in appearance, who would crack open a nut set on her navel using only her carven abs.

"Wow," Diana said, staring, entranced.

(By now the kids could just ignore the "phrasing"-voice.)

Her mother called her a derogatory word.

"Enjoy," Croix said, pulling the cork out of a wine bottle using only her teeth. She spat it at an ice sculpture of a tastefully nude Daryl.

The party carried on; and there surely were some other highlights, most of all Adora jumping off the third floor balcony, landing in, and breaking apart, the bathtub full of jungle juice. But first and foremost, it was the little brown-haired nutcracker that caught Diana's eye. She waited out the party, sharing stories, telling tales, watching Daryl shotgun-whip her daughters for trying to sneak out with Croix, watching Daryl waterboard the neighborhood drunk for daring to take the last piece of rumaki without warning her, watching Daryl inject heroin after setting the Christmas tree on fire, watching the guests run out of the house as the flames began to lick the ceiling, watching the firefighters extinguish the house, watching Daryl shoot an orderly in the face as they tried to rush her to the nearest hospital for treatment, watching Daryl declare that God was dead as she emptied a Gattling gun with a full hopper into the air, and finally, getting waterboarded by Daryl for ruining her party. All things considered, the waterboarding was the worst part. So when the party was over at last, she returned to her room, trying to stop hyperventilating and trying to ignore the smell of scorched pine tree wafting up from downstairs. Now, at last, she got in some time with her favorite Christmas present from Uncle Croix.

She (the nutcracker) had a cute little hairstyle, a tiny blob of a ponytail tied back on her long hair; she had a vacuous, delighted expression. She looked elated; why, she looked full to the brim with elation, with energy, with everything except two thoughts to rub together.

"You are very sweet-looking," Diana said. "Sweet as candied pralines, and soft as a marshmallow." She gave the toy an Inuit kiss. "In spirit, at least. What a healthy little nutcracker you are. Would you like to meet the rest of our troops?"

The little nutcracker "nodded."

"Very well." She held up the toy to her shelf, and introduced the nutcracker to her favorite dolls, one by one. "This is Director Jesse Faden. She's got a strong will and won't give up no matter how tough the odds get. This is Ichiban Kasuga; his sense of justice is second to none. This is the Exo Stranger--but I don't have time to explain why I don't have time to explain her. You know Big the Cat, of course; he was behind the crossifixion. And last but far from least, Precious Ajna, who deserved the world, no matter what people say." She stroked Ajna's hair.

It occurred to Diana at last. "Oh, how rude," Diana said. "I forgot to name you, didn't I?" She held her out at arm's length. "I think I will name you... Nuna. Wait, no. Atsuko. Akko-chan for short." She tickled Akko's little buff belly. "Who's my little Akko-chan?"

She put a wax cylinder on her phonograph and set down the needle. "Come now, Akko. Let's dance." She held out Akko's arm, held the doll close to her chest, and swayed to the song. Diana sang along with it:

"You must be used to be me spending,  
And all that sweet wining and dining...  
[Well, I'm fucking you tonight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2nVNYihFx4)\--"

There was a sound downstairs; the needle skipped, and Diana gasped in shock. "What was that...?" she said.

She strained her ears. Nothing. Not even the sound of mice in the walls.

"Well, then," Diana said, tucking Akko into a pocket. "I think this is something that deserves investigation. Come on. Let's solve this mystery together."

And so they went downstairs to find what was waiting for them.

("Jesus Christ, what now, kid?" Eda said.

"How old is Diana supposed to be, anyway?" Luz said. "Because I get looked at weird when I play with my Azura action dolls, so if she's, like, older than me, and nobody cares that she still plays with dolls, then I say we go back to the olden days in this one very specific, like, way, and not in any other."

"I don't give a fuck," Eda said, turning the page. She made sure to turn it extra slow, just to torment Luz; and by proxy, you, the reader, for this is the end of part one.)


End file.
